


I Miss You, I Miss You, I Miss You More

by afrocurl



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Canon Jewish Character, Canonical Character Death, Emotionally Crippled Erik, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 04:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7561258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/pseuds/afrocurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's only so awkward to divulge a big secret in the middle of other emotional trauma, but that's the only option Peter sees right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Miss You, I Miss You, I Miss You More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [helens78](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/gifts).



> Based off [this prompt](http://helens78.tumblr.com/post/145053241271/can-we-talk-about-erik-though) from Helens78 and to celebrate my fifth anniversary of being in the general X-Men fandom.

Charles wheels himself to Peter just as the commotion of the last few days has settled everyone down to a dull roar. The mansion is stable, and there has been a far-off look in Erik’s eyes since he and Jean finished rebuilding it.

“I know,” is all he says, and Peter just looks at him. It is a shock that Charles says something because he has said no more than ten words to Peter so far.

“Know what?” Peter has a feeling he knows where this is going, and it makes him nervous. Admitting to Raven what he knows is one thing, but admitting it to Charles is another. He might as well just tell Erik if Charles knows.

“About Erik. Raven hasn’t been able to stop thinking of it since you told her. If you’d like, we can work together. Give you the time to tell him.”

“Why would he want stupid me after this? I mean, he’s lost another wife and child. He’s gonna want a loser like me?” Bravado works well in the heat of battle, but Peter knows himself well enough to know that he is self-conscious and self-deprecating to hide what he feels.

Charles tuts. “Firstly, you aren’t a loser. You saved countless lives in trying to find me to find Erik. And you saved Erik ten years ago. You’re a good man, and a good son. He’ll see that when you share it.”

“If you say so,” Peter says but he does give Erik a quick glance. Erik seems lost, surrounded by so many unfamiliar—and small—faces.

“I do. Just let me work this out.”

All Peter can do is nod and walk off to talk to Jean, Scott and anyone else who will listen to his banter.

-

In one small moment before dinner, Charles returns to where Peter’s standing near the other older students. It is so hard to find a way to fit in—too old to be a student but too young to be a professor—and so Peter just sort of stands and looks around, leg still busted up.

“He’s agreed to stay. For a while. I suggested he could take a few supplies and be alone in the woods over there. Perhaps you’d ask to join him.”

“And he’s going to do what?”

“I imagine he’ll attempt to sit shiva—the best he can—and try to mourn.”

“What does that mean I need to do?”

“Just stay with him, without delving too much. He might just like someone near him.”

“It can’t be you?”

“Not for where he’ll want to go. I can’t maneuver too well where he’ll go.”

“And I can?”

“Better you than I,” Charles says with a lilt and wheels himself away to look after some of the younger students still looking as though they needed some counsel, a telltale wail starting from one of them.

“You aren’t Jewish, are you?” Charles yells just as he is beyond Peter’s reach.

Peter wonders why he would have asked that, though.

-

There are tents set up well away from the school in a copse of trees that provides nearly constant shade. Erik looks lost in the space, too small after all the grand gestures that Peter has seen him perform.

Amongst nature, Erik is without most of his creature comforts. There is something odd about seeing him without much access to his powers, though Peter knows that all of the destruction across the world came from a subatomic control that Erik had been given. 

“Charles sent me with some food for you,” Peter says when he steps close enough not to have to yell.

“So you’re to be my Shabbos goy? Well, I suppose that you’re at least someone I’ve met more than once.” The pain in Erik’s voice is obvious, but Peter is at least willing to handle Erik’s rage for another few days.

“I guess so, whatever that means. Where do you want the food?”

“Just over there, under the smallest tent. And what you are for me is a non-Jew who can get things for me when I’m not supposed to.”

“So like a butler?”

“If that’s the best you can come up with. Sure. But a silent one.”

Peter pulls on his headphones and puts his Walkman volume on low as he watches Erik pace through the small space as if he has energy to burn, or demons to excise.

-

Erik does not say much, unless Peter asks a question.

“Do you need something else for dinner?”

“No, the chicken salad with bagels is fine.”

“What’s with all the candles I’m lighting?”

“There’s no other light and I’m not supposed to do any work.”

“Want to hear a story?”

“No.”

It feels as if Peter is pulling teeth each and every time he attempts conversation, and so after the last one, Peter simply keeps his headphones on, and cycles through his tapes at will.

Trying to tell this man he has another child seems as if it will only end in disaster. There are still six more days of the two of them saying little.

-

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Peter asks just as Erik looks as if he is giving up the metaphoric ghost and going to sleep.

“I—” he starts to say. “I hadn’t thought of that. Whatever makes it easier, I suppose.”

“I’ll stay and then get us food for the day once you’re up. Sound fair?”

Erik nods and looks into his tent to settle himself down. Around them, the candles are nearly all gone out. Peter looks around, finds that there is another place for him to stay—near enough to Erik that he can help if anything happens but not so far as to isolate him further—and tries to settle in to sleep with his cast itching and the bugs outside being bugs.

-

A rustling sound off to Peter’s left jolts him into motion far too early in the morning for his liking. _Erik._

“You’re up too early, man.”

“When you’ve been through all I have, sleep doesn’t come easy.”

“Oh, I forgot.”

“No worries. It’s one fact of my life. But don’t worry, sleep if you need it. I’ll just sit here and think for a bit.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

“‘Kay, man. See you later.”

It takes no more than a few minutes for Peter to fall back to sleep, but as he does, he feels as if he is failing in his one job.

-

Once he wakes properly, Peter makes the long walk into the mansion to find food for today and to complain how much this job sucks to Charles in person.

He finds Charles sitting in the kitchen, looking out into the woods lost in thought. “You know you can talk to him. He might actually like that.” Peter follows Charles’ line of sight and knows, deep in his bones, what Charles is thinking.

“Not right now, I don’t think. He needs to think of Magda and Nina.” There’s a small huff from Charles, clearly put out by not being able to talk to Erik.

“Well, I think that’s all he’s doing, because he’s not talking to me.” Peter taps his headphones to indicate how he’s been spending most of his time, keeping himself just in Charles’ peripheral vision.

“I didn’t expect him to talk much. Did I fail to mention that?” Charles looks as if he really is not focusing on Peter, but that’s probably because Charles is paying attention to the twenty other people around.

“Well, if that’s the case, can you give me a book or something? I’m going to go insane if I don’t do something.”

“I’ll get you some books, more batteries and you can figure out the rest.”

Peter huffs. “This is some weird lesson, right? So I can be a better son or something.”

“It’s whatever you and Erik need it to be.”

That is no answer at all.

-

The walk back to the campsite is slow, especially when Peter is carrying a backpack full of books, plus the bag full of food.

Unceremoniously, Peter drops the backpack as soon as he can. A loud thud echoes in the space before he says, “If you’re allowed to read, Charles gave me some books.”

“I think I’d like to sit instead.” Erik turns away from him and looks over at the small collection of food.

Peter thinks about another way to get his father to talk. “Sure. If you want to talk about them or anything, you can. I’ve been told in the last day or two, I’m a good listener.”

“By whom?”

“Scott.”

“Little shit.” There is almost a laugh from Erik at that. Almost.

“I know! I can’t tell what the hell is up with him, but he’s just—”

“A little shit.”

“Damn right.” Peter smiles to himself and looks around for odd work. Something to do will help right now.

-

Dusk creeps into their space before Erik volunteers this little nugget: “Nina loved to talk to animals at twilight. She said they were the most peaceful when our world started to sleep and the rest woke.”

“She was a mutant?” 

“She was. I should have brought her here when she manifested. But I chose to stay.”

“You had reasons.”

“Piss poor reasons where I hid from what I did.”

Peter reaches over to put a hand of Erik’s leg. “You can’t change any of your past actions. Well, not without some serious help. You did what you thought was best.”

“Is that why you saved me? You thought it best?”

“Charles, Hank and Logan made a very persuasive pitch. Plus, I was bored. You’re an adventure.”

“Never has anyone said I was an adventure.”

“Well, you are.” Peter pauses, trying to think of what else to say. “So what else did Nina love?”

-

After Erik’s first story about Nina, the stories about his wife and daughter come more and more easily. Those books remain closed and unread, and Peter listens closely when Erik talks.

Peter’s heart aches. He wants to tell Erik the secret that he holds so close to his heart. Ten years have passed and Peter still says nothing.

But, as he wrestles with himself, he remembers that this time is for Erik. Not him.

He keeps his secret, because this week is Erik’s time to mourn. Not to discover that there is another family hidden in plain sight.

-

“Tonight’s the last night,” Erik whispers as they sit together in the waning light, candles dotting their shared space. 

“Is it? It doesn’t feel like a week.”

There is a laugh from Erik. “You’re far too nice for say that after this week. I’ve been miserable.”

“But isn’t that supposed to be normal?”

“I don’t know. I rarely had a chance to shit shiva with someone else.”

“It wasn’t so bad.”

“If you say so.” There is another small laugh from Erik as if he is finally comfortable with Peter’s brand of humor and does not mind sharing his.

That is a small comfort to Peter after this week, but it does not get him to go the step beyond and share with Erik what he has wanted to share all week.

_I’m your son._

-

“Rise and shine,” Erik says the next morning, with a tone that says he wants to get out of the woods. There is an impatience that Peter had not heard until now that tells him Erik has compartmentalized the whole grieving process. Erik must be very good at it for him to have turned on a dime.

“Ugh, it’s too early, Dad,” Peter replies. Sleep is crusted on his eyes and he cannot even focus on Erik’s face fully. 

_Oh. Shit._ He has let the secret out of the bag. One whole week and on the last day, he lets slip his whole reason for being out in the woods.

“What did you just say?” Erik asks, his voice pitching higher, clearly confused by the detail Peter slips out. Peter wants to fall into the ground rather than face Erik’s reaction.

“Umm. I’m your son. You’re my dad. Surprise!” He rises up from the sleeping blanket and does some jazz hands for effect.

Peter blames his sleepy mind for just blurting that out, even if he puts on a show of acting the fool.

“How?” is all Erik asks now that he has taken a minute—or more—to process the information.

Peter levers himself up into a seated position and starts.

“You remember how I said ten years ago that my mom knew a guy who controlled metal?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to **annejumps** and **ikeracity** for the beta help. Title taken from the Bastille song, which reminds me so much of Charles and Erik that is hurts a little bit.


End file.
